April Showers
by SoleFaith
Summary: April is your typical fan girl. Until she goes to a party near a graveyard and finds herself in the Universe of her favorite television show. "Step one, find Sherlock Holmes."
1. Prolouge

**Prologue**

April takes a step forward. Ever since she had closed her eyes, laying in a sleeping bag and staring at the stars, she continued to hear a banging from the graveyard that was not even a few feet away. Her friends choose this as a camping spot in order to scare her into drinking with them. April never drank.

Her foot crunched into the dry August leaves as she bite her lip. One lesson she learned from watching way too many late night horror movies was to never follow the strange noise into a pitch black graveyard. She always thought the protagonists idiots to do so, and here she was following in their footsteps.

She held in her fear by listing reasons why an ax murderer wouldn't come after her. One, this isn't a horror movie. Two, she isn't pretty enough. She chuckled dryly at the second reason as she neared the chain link fence. April fiddled with the wooden cross hanging around her neck, as she peered into the graveyard. The banging stopped but her eyes locked onto a decaying gravestone.

She narrowed her eyes and squinted as much as she could but couldn't make out the name on the stone. April didn't know what was drawing her to it, but whatever it was caused her to jump the fence and land briskly on the grass on the other side. Fumbling with the flashlight in her hands she pointed it directly at the stone.

_Sherlock Holmes_

April stumbled backwards in a brief moment of shock. Sherlock Holmes was nothing more than a novel to her, and a TV show of course. He wasn't a real person. He never actually existed. She smirked. It wasn't every day you found a stone like this.

Pulling the phone from her pocket she snapped a picture of the stone, and curled up underneath it. April had gone mad, or maybe she was just tired. But the next day the girl who slept next to Sherlock's gravestone was yet another missing person in Utah.

* * *

><p>April's eyes popped open, snapped open, whatever most emphasized the shock she was in. Fresh in her mind, the gravestone of Sherlock Holmes. There was something off though, she yawned into her hands before realizing where she actually was.<p>

Sleeping on a park bench. Boy, she must have gotten really drunk last night. She knew that she had tried her best not too, but because her friends were as persuasive as ever, it's not like she was ever really going to end up staying sober.

That's when she noticed the second thing. April was never too smart of a girl, but the first thing she saw after waking was a busy street where the cars drove on opposite sides. This was Britain. Somewhere in England, most likely in Britain. She didn't really know. If it weren't for her false assumption of being on what she assumed a hangover was like, she probably would've started hyperventilating so much she would faint. Instead she was surprisingly calm as she began walking the streets and observing her surroundings.

If she had learned anything from being wrapped in a blanket with ice coffee, surrounded by loads of TV show and band posters, it was from Sherlock. Always observe your surroundings. That's what she did, as she walked down a busy street to God knows where, finally stopping at a Kiosk selling newspapers. Her eyes traced the man holding the papers. He had a freshly shaved beard and a clean haircut.

April could almost imagine how she looked, messy blonde highlights groped over her shoulders with untamed bed head and dull bags hung under her eyes. Her body was probably the worst part. Walking up to a newspaper kiosk in a pair of sonic screwdriver pajama pants and a frayed orange t-shirt probably made her look like a total psychopath. In America she was sure that she would be getting crazy looks, it made her feel comfortable when nobody looked at her at all. She was a chameleon anyhow, even in the craziest get ups, nobody really saw her.

April ducked behind the man standing a foot away, and picked up a newspaper to examine it. She was looking for the date, because she was obsessed with weird occurrences and wondered whether she had traveled back in time. But her eyes were pulled down the page and away from the date.

_Famous Detective Sherlock Holmes solves yet another murder with the help of John Watson, an army medic returned home._

Her mouth gaped open, and as much as she hated to steal, she walked away from the booth like she had paid already in the first place. It made her feel sick to steal, but she had to stop assuming this was just a hangover. April didn't even know what a hangover felt like, but she knew that it wasn't hallucinating about your hero and waking up in another country.

Once she was far enough away from the newspaper kiosk her eyes attacked the paper with manic emotion, her eyes as big as soccer balls. They stopped on the picture of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, the shining image of Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman.

_Oh God, this must be a dream. _

She found her hand yet again at the cross on her neck. She knew if she didn't calm down she would start ripping the whole damn town, city, wherever the hell she was, to pieces.

It sunk in like a rock and the people passing her become a blur. Her entire body felt weightless and her stomach growled. She looked down at her get up again and sighed. "I really need to get some clothing." she mumbled aloud and found herself shuffling in her pajama pocket for her wallet. When she found it and pulled out a twenty she groaned.

_Dammit. All I have is American money._

All she could think to do was to keep repeating to herself that it all had to be a bad dream. That's when she reached a homeless shelter, against her better judgment she decided to go in and fix herself up.

* * *

><p>Phase one of shock had ended right as April stepped back into the evening light dressed in a one size too big pair of blue jeans, and a teal sweatshirt. Her hair was up in a messy side braid and her face was as pale as ever. She felt cleaner. Better.<p>

The kind lady inside the shelter had given her a bag for her things, she blended in so much better now. Step one, find Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> _Chapters will usually be **longer** than this, since it's only the prologue and I loved the cliffhanger I decided to keep it at this length. If you liked it I hope you enjoy the next chapter which I will start typing later tonight probably. My other stories will be updated eventually, **this story** will be my **main focus** at the moment. The Game is On!_


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

* * *

><p>If April knew one thing about finding Sherlock it was his address. 221B Baker Street was probably the most famous address to ever grace earth with it's presence. The only problem was that she had no clue what she was supposed to say when she found him.<p>

_Hi, I'm from another universe. I think I may have broken the fourth wall and landed here. Since I technically don't exist and since I technically don't have a place to stay, can I stay with you and John?_

Yea, she had a feeling that, that wouldn't go over very well with him. She was already on Baker Street by the time she was done thinking of all the possible ways Sherlock Holmes would react to that. Well, atleast he would know she wasn't lying. But then again, just because you believe something doesn't make it true.

April stopped a few buildings away and stared up at the apartment building. An empty feeling was tingling in her stomach. She knew after a while of being stuck here she'd begin to freak out, she'd want to go home and hug her mother. But right now the main priority was convincing the modern day detective that they should be friends. The more she thought about it, the more pathetic it sounded. Sherlock Holmes didn't have any friends, except maybe John. He was a complete asshole.

"What are you doing?" her breath hitched in her throat. She knew who the words belonged to the moment they escaped his mouth. John Watson. She was about to have a major fangirl attack, but then realized that she should be responding to him. April turned all the way around to see the war medic holding a carton of milk. He always did seem to be buying milk, didn't he?

"I came to see Mrs. Hudson." She blurts out and then bites her tongue and swallows her laugh. That was the most idiotic thing to say ever. What will happen when she goes inside and Mrs. Hudson has no clue who she is?

"From all the way over here?" he asks skeptically. "Are you looking for help? This is Sherlock's address. You know, the consulting Detective."

Not wanting to take back her original words, she shakes her head. "Nope, I'm a friend of Mrs. Hudson's."

"Ok, well come on in, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you." John responds and walks past her to the front door. That's something April didn't remember about John. He was the most polite person she had ever met, well she hadn't met him until now.

Soon realizing she was still standing in the same spot, April hurried over to the door, her bag hitting against her back as she went. When she walked through the open door she glanced around.

"This is insane..." she muttered under her breath eyeing the hallway. "This is bloody insane." That was another thing she learned from watching British television. To use bloody as a curse word. It suited her personality well enough, and she found it cleaner than other things. But as April looked around even more she realized that everything was an exact replica from the show. It really was insane.

Mrs. Hudson makes the corner and looks at April for only a brief moment before smiling her classic smile. "Oh dear, you must be April Cooper."

April's mouth hangs open. The only thing on her mind being, 'Oh my God, Mrs. Hudson knows my name.' She stares slack jawed forward until she is snapped out of it by the reality that she isn't speaking.

"S-sorry?" she tries confused.

"It's fine dear, I just wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. Your flat isn't ready yet." she shuffles forward. "Would you like some tea, Jhon makes the most tasteful tea, why don't I go introduce you to the boys."

April becomes slack jawed again. As Mrs. Hudson starts up the stairs April looks down at the floor briefly. "Bloody Hell." she mutters quietly before following her up. At the top of the stairs she watches as Mrs. Hudson files into the open apartment door. April stands still quietly looking into the flat with interest.

"Oh God, Mrs. Hudson brought a friend." she hears from inside and her heart stops.

_How did he-never mind he knows everything. He's Sherlock Holmes for goodness sakes. _

April takes a step into the apartment then, because since he already knew she was there it would be weird to just stand outside. Once inside she sees Sherlock sitting at the kitchen table, doing some kind of experiment that she would probably never be able to understand with her small mind, and John sitting in his trademark arm chair typing on his laptop.

_'I'm never going to get used to this.'_

They both look up at her, Sherlock more than John, and stare. "Um, hi. I'm April. I guess I'm moving into the flat next door..." she trails off. She really had no clue how she would pay for it. The April Cooper who applied to move into 221C couldn't have been the same April Cooper who waited outside Best Buy all night on Black Friday.

"You're American." Sherlock states bluntly and April feels her skin heating up, kind of like she's going to faint. He's shorter in person...but definitely more intimidating.

"Yup." she chokes, smiling as best as she can. If she is stuck here she mine as well play her part.

Without another word he looks back down into a microscope beside two pipets. April chews on her lip. Her stomach churns. "We already meet." At those startling words April's eyes detach from Sherlock and land on John. "John Watson." He puts his hand out for her to shake and they do.

April reluctantly sits down on the coach, Sherlock's coach. Her stomach explodes with butterflies. This is Sherlock's coach! If only Macy could see her now. From the corner of her eye she saw Mrs. Hudson making a hasty escape downstairs.

_'Well thanks Ms. Hudson.'_

When the silence proceeds to increase April stands up and gives a weak smile. "Well, it was good meeting you I suppose." she says quickly and makes her exit before either of them could respond. Rounding the corner in the outside hall she steps into a bathroom, which she already knew was there, and leaned down against the rim of the toilet.

The room begins spinning around her and she empties the contents of her stomach inside the bowl. Wiping her mouth, she stands wobbly. "OK, I just need to know when in the timeline I am and then I'll be able to figure this out." She says to the version of herself standing on the other side of the mirror. She pauses. "And I'm also going to need to figure out how I'm going to pay for that room." She sighs out a stressful laugh and pulls her fingers down over her braid.

Going to open the door, she almost has a heart attack when she sees Sherlock standing on the other side.

'Oh please, God, please not let him have heard what I just said.'

"Your pupils are dilated." he says and then looks her over briefly. "Indicating that you're scared. You're American, indicating that your lost. Your right hand is trembling, your stiff as a board, and...you aren't breathing."

The moment the words escape his mouth everything he noticed about her melts away and April is standing relaxed in her shoes. She lets out a deep breath, breath that she had unknowingly been holding in. On the show when Sherlock would read someone, she never really understood why it irritated them so much. But, once it happened to her she felt completely and utterly exposed.

"I'm tired. You know, us American's and sleeping. We just can't handle riding in plane's." She quips staring right into his eyes, if they were in the jungle it would be a challenge, but to her she was the rabbit and he was a lion. He steps to the left out of the doorway.

* * *

><p><em>"Twenty Year old woman reported missing for almost twenty four hours now. Search parties have canvassed the entire wooded area, park, and graveyard and there's still no sign of her. Police suspect it to be a kidnapping..."<em>

April's head shoots up off the pillow. Her eyes bounce around in the room, looking for clues she had been dreaming and is back home. No such luck. Instead, she stares out a gray window onto a brisk morning version of Baker Street. Something familiar bounces in the air as she steps out of bed and look around her apartment.

Just as empty as she left it the night before.

April, who hadn't showered since the night she spent in the graveyard, examined the bathroom with distaste. Her shower back at home was comforting to her, the one here was a bit too unfamiliar. Reluctantly, she stepped onto the rectangular tiles and felt relief pelt down on her like hot pellets of rain. Turning the knob up a bit more she let the events of the day before wash over her with the water.

'I could have died that night.' she thought briefly. 'This could be eternal punishment.'

But those thoughts left her, just as the soap left her hair. "This can't be punishment because I'm on Baker Street. Being with my hero could never punish me." she whispers and then steps out cleaner than ever.

April had never felt poor. In fact, back in her old life she had always been on the richer side of her friends. Yet now, looking down on her bed at the baggy clothing from the homeless shelter she knew that she needed something cleaner. She wondered what April Cooper would do. No, not her. But the April Cooper who was supposed to live in 221C.

Curious, she went to the small closet. Inside hangers upon hangers of clothing danced along a metal pole. She knelt on her knees and pulled out a pair of blue jeans and stared at the tag, just her size.

_Were these April Cooper's things?_

It was weird thinking about herself in third person. Was there even another person who had her name, or was it the universe trying to get her to stay here with Sherlock and John?

She got dressed quickly after that, pulling on a black T-shirt and pair of jeans. She looped the cross around her neck, picking it up of the night stand and briefly holding it between her thumb and pointer finger. She wanted to be a good neighbor, that would be her excuse, but what she really wanted to do was help Sherlock and John with their cases. If she didn't want to go crazy, it seemed like she needed to find a way to befriend the beast. April ended up outside the door again looking in, she felt a bit like a stalker but she really wanted to know where she was. Scratch that. When she was.

She peered in and the scene hit her. She knew what episode this was. It was-

"What do you want?" For the second time since arriving on Baker Street she realized that Sherlock could always tell when she listening in.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Welcome Back! I'm going to **apologize** for this chapter before hand because I feel like I totally **butchered** Sherlock and John's characters. But, I don't know you tell me. _

**QOTD:** Who do you think is paying for April's stay on Baker Street?

Thanks for reading guys! More to come soon!


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

* * *

><p>The moment those words came from the other room, the name of the episode had totally slipped April's mind. She was still trying to get used to the fact that she was in England one night after sleeping in Utah. Not to mention it wasn't even her universe. So, it was still a shock to her system when she would hear either of the dynamic duo speaking to her.<p>

April toke a step inside so that she was just inside the door frame, she smiled at her feet briefly and then looked back up into the flat. "I was just being neighborly, and decided that I'd come say hello." She smirked. Then again, being on Baker Street did have its perks. One being the fun she had messing with the great Sherlock Holmes. "I brought…." April glanced down at the bottle in her hands. She had found it in the fridge when she explored her own flat the night before. "This thing…"

Before they even had the thought process to respond, April's eyes had already canvassed the room for familiar items. One being the deerstalker hat clinging desperately to Sherlock's hand.

_'__It's a Sherlock Holmes hat' _April heard in her memory.

The other confirming clue that she noticed was the newspaper laid out on the coffee table. Then, within that split second after looking up from the bottles label, she knew exactly when she was.

'The Reichenbach Fall'

April's expression didn't change from the pale half smile even when she was fighting an eternal battle within herself. All she could picture was Sherlock falling from that roof, he would live, but it made her feel absolutely sick inside. April pushed the bottle out towards the two, and never let her hand drop.

"You don't drink." Sherlock mutters, now sitting in the chair closest to where John sat on the coach. April toke another step in knowing that at least one of them would take the bottle from her after a while. John did, and he set it beside him. He gave a weak smile, and looked away from her to finish what he had been saying before she came in.

"Just try to find a small case this week." He finishes and then they both hush up, probably trying to tell her that she had no business in that conversation.

* * *

><p>Even though Sherlock protested, John let April stay. Probably because she told him that she read his blog. It was a white lie, but it was still a lie. It didn't make her feel too bad though because she already knew what most of the things he wrote about were, she just didn't know the exact words.<p>

But the real awkward moment of that day was when John left to take a shower leaving April sitting on the coach in a room alone with the infamous detective. April remembered what came next, heck she knew at this very moment Moriarty was in that musame.

After a long silence, "Watcha looking at?" April asks getting off the coach and sitting beside Sherlock at the kitchen table. Her eyes scan the equipment for the experiment.

"I think the real question is why you care what I'm looking at." He replies, his eyes only leaving the table for a brief moment.

April thought about it for a moment. She knew he was suspicious of her, and she felt like if she didn't tell him about the whole multi-universe thing he would figure it out soon enough. He probably wouldn't believe it, but it would be enough for him to think her to be crazy. Before April could respond, with a sassy comment if she could say so herself, John had come back into the room his hair wet and mats loose.

April knew what was going to happen and she was practically shaking in her chair with excitement. The text buzzed on the coffee table and John went to pick it up. "It's for you." he said turning to look back at Sherlock.

"Not now."

April bit at her lip as she saw John reading over the message. "He's back." John finally said walking over behind the two. April looked at both the men with a sly smirk. She could barely contain the amount of fan girl that was surging through her at the moment. No matter how serious of looks the two were making she just couldn't hold back.

"The Game is on!" she beamed. "Let me just go get my coat." The pair looked at each other once she left.

"Did she just-" John starts quizzically.

"Yes." Sherlock replies, he pauses, "She did."

* * *

><p>April threw together the most decent pair of clothing from her closet onto her bed and slipped it on. She put her blonde hair up into to a loose bun, because why the hell not, and laced up a pair black sneakers.<p>

Trying to keep good time, she scurried out of the bedroom and towards the door. Her hand barely touched the knob when a phone buzzed. She froze in shock for a moment, before rolling her eyes. It was too late anyway, she was completely sure that Sherlock would have hailed a cab already and considering he was a celebrity at this point, she didn't wait to take chances walking out there alone.

She retreated to find the source of the ringing. Her thoughts wandered as she looked in the fridge, under the coach, and even in the oven. She still hadn't had one full conversation with the consulting detective and she was beginning to get a bit antsy-

Then the phone!

A blue light from behind the Curtin alerted April to her target and she snatched it from the windowsill. Slowly, she put the phone to her ear, "Hello?"

"Ah, you finally decided to answer." the voice on the other end of the phone said. April was undoubtedly confused whereas this was the first time the man had even called her. Well, as far as she knew. This other _'April Cooper' _could have been a major player. She laughed to herself and then cleared her throat.

"Let me guess." she started and racked her mind for the name of any person who would be calling her from this universe. "Never mind, I'm not good at guessing."

"We need to talk about your job." April narrowed her eyes at those words. There was a bad feeling in her gut.

"Who is this?" she demanded her hands shaking even though she tried to make them stop. Her voice came out ten times less intimidating than she wanted it to. The line went dead. April carefully placed the phone on the hardwood floor and brought the heel of her sneaker down on it as hard as she could before kicking it under the coach. She let out a deep breath.

"Breaking the phone won't stop the person on the other end." came a startling voice from behind her. She spun around her eyes narrowed into slits.

"How did-" April started exasperated and breathing heavy.

"You left the door open." Sherlock was all dressed up in his scarf and April couldn't help but bite back a fan girl scream.

"Why-" she tried again, but of course he already knew what she was going to say.

"You said you were coming with us." he states blandly. "I assumed you weren't being moron."

April sighs; she probably shouldn't have assumed the worst. She grabbed her jacked off the hook on the far wall and followed him out of the flat.

* * *

><p>April sat next to John in the court room. There were only a few witnesses going up to the stand before Sherlock, and because she was hoping to be a lawyer when she grew up, she listened to them with great interest.<p>

_'They're idiots.' _a voice said inside her thoughts. It was Sherlock's voice. She peered at him from across the court room and then repeated the thought aloud. "They're idiots." John glanced at her incredulously. She was something else, he thought, she was sounding more and more like Sherlock with every word out of her mouth.

April was beginning to feel a bit impatient, her toes curled in her shoes and her eyes wandered the seats. There was something else a voice in her head wanted her to do. It wasn't Sherlock's voice this time. It was her best friend, Macy. _'Look at him, just a peek. I promise it'll be worth it.' _

April really couldn't resist, just like earlier. She peeled her eyes away from the witness stand and toke a peek behind her to where the infamous consulting criminal James Moriarty watched the entire trial without one tiny morsel of fear in his eyes. Their eyes meet and she pulled them away quickly. 'You better be right, Macy.'

Sherlock came to the stand soon after that and begin his-well Macy couldn't even explain it-on the show it made her laugh more than once. But in real life it made her gawk. He was completely showing up both the prosecutor and the judge. "Is he always likes this?" she asked smoothly to John without turning to look at him. She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him.

"You don't even know." The irony of his response was enough to make April smile. The tension was dying down, and even if it didn't she had a front row seat after all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> _Again I'm sitting here in computer land **apologizing** for how butchered this chapter was. Watered down season two finally? With April screwing around of course, hehe. If you liked it, **forget** what I just said because you guys are the real judge, jury, and executioners. __**(If you get my reference I'll give you a cookie.)**_

**QOTD:** _Who do you think called April while she was in her apartment? What do you think the job was?_

_Good Night, ducklings!_


	4. Chapter Three: Part One

**Chapter Three: Part One**

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><p>"What did I say, I said don't get clever." Jhons voice broke April out of her thoughts as she sat up from her chair, and went over to watch as he signed out of prison. She couldn't help but laugh a bit, because really, when was Sherlock not clever?<p>

"What's so funny?" Sherlock asked, a bit less than incredulously. He probably already knew. But who was she not to answer, it really was fun driving him a bit crazy.

April let out an entertained shaky breath. "You two. I'm glad you let me come, I get bored easily." April paused at their interested looks.

"Us?" asked John. His eyebrows were raised in question. Sherlock kept walking ahead unfazed.

"You two could have your own television show."

* * *

><p>April sat on the coach. She figured she could really use some popcorn, the scenes inside the flat were the most interesting ones. Mrs. Hudson had offered her tea, and even though she wasn't much of a tea person, she sipped it thankfully. Her eyes traced the liquor bottle, the one she had brought in earlier, and her thoughts shattered as she re-engaged herself in their conversation.<p>

"The only reason he's in a prison cell right now is because he choose to be there." April bit the inside of her cheek to keep from exploding. She really wanted to tell them what was going on, yet at the same time she knew it was wrong to play God in their lives. She couldn't choose what to keep and what to leave out.

"Maybe it's part of his plan?" She suggested. "Maybe he wants us to notice that, because of course he realizes that we would, so maybe we should try doing the opposite of what he expects us to do."

"Who's we?" Sherlock turned towards her this time. "Me and John, or you, me and John. I don't remember Moriarty trying to kill you. So what are you doing here?" He pauses. For all she knew he could be a spy, though she didn't look that part.

"Because you guys are fun, and I bring the party were ever I go?" April asked her voice comically unsure of her answer. John choked on a laugh. Narrowing his eyes at her, Sherlock turned back to the middle of the room.

"Somehow this is part of his plan." Then, unwittingly realizing he just repeated what the daffed American girl had just suggested to him, he huffed off to his bedroom. Night fell, and the trial continued into the next day. April was dressed before sunrise. She showered and tied her hair up in a long pony tail.

Looking in the mirror at her reflection seemed to cauterize that hole in her heart, she may have missed her parents, but the feeling was gone. She briefly glanced over at the phone. It's screen still shattered at the edge of her bed. The fact it was unlocked didn't surprise her as she scrolled through the contacts. Under family there was only one person, 'M' . It was the only contact on the phone.

April was used to the unusual by then. She was living in a TV show for goodness sakes. So it wasn't too much trouble for her to press the re-dial button.

It rang, and rang, and-

"Hello?"

This time she recognized the voice, clear as day infact. But it was impossible. It didn't make any sense.

"April, is that you?"

She still stayed completely quiet, and unnecessarily still. But her breathing was clearly heard from the other end.

"I can hear you breathing. You should probably take your hair down, darling. The trial isn't a formal event." The phone slipped out of her hand and her eyes became huge and fish like. April kicked the phone against the wall with all her might and the back poped off. Slumping down to her knees she breathed heavily into her hands.

'April Cooper, you idiot.'

* * *

><p>April was antsy in her seat, she stared down at the defense table and then at the Judge, and then at John. "You look sick, are you sure your alright?"<p>

April fidgeted at his words and then light out a slight, "Mmm" She rubbed her hands together as the defense attorney claimed not to call any witnesses. John's face hardened in confusion, and April barely toke any notice.

Moriarty turned around to face them, and April murmured her thoughts aloud. "He's looking at you right?" Her face was heating up. "Right?"

The answer she got didn't help. "Yea, yea of course."

The feeling in her stomach got even worse when she arrived at 221C, wishing John goodbye. She paced.

'Boring, boring, boring.'

And the timeline of the show seemed to fade from her mind. She wanted so badly to tell them she about the reality of their existences. No, she wanted so badly to go home. She could hear sirens in her head, loud and obnoxious. Then she heard nothing but her parents crying. And the knock on her door.

April quickly wiped her eyes. "John, is that you?" She stood up abruptly. "Sherlock?" She dragged her feet to the door behind her. "I'm sorry I'm just a bit home sick is all." she mumbled unlocking to door.

The key fell from her hands when she realized who she had opened the door for. Her mouth formed a straight line. "Why are you here?" She asked taking a tentative step back.

"For you."

April was silent, her thoughts churning in over a hundred different directions. "Wha-"

"Who else would bring the party." Once those all to familiar words escaped his lips April tried to push the door shut, but is was too late, and she struggled as much as she could, but it didn't help.

She was out like a light.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>_Happy Holidays! I cant be ungrateful for all the love this story has been getting and decided to post part one of chapter four. It's short because it's only part one. Part two should be about this same length. Tell me your thoughts, because I have major doubts. Or don't. Im just happy you guys read!_


	5. Chapter Three: Part Two

**AN: **_Since this is part two of chapter three it's going to be short. But I promise each and every one of you that the next chapter will be a double length super chapter! Yay! Wooo!_

**Chapter Three: Part Two**

* * *

><p>April awoke in a cold sweat. Her eyes were glossy and her lips were severely chapped. Her gaze darted around the room taking in every inch; it was her flat. April sighed heavily.<p>

_Had it been a dream?_

She supposed that she would have been stronger in real life. Relief coursed through her veins. She must have slipped into bed when she came back from the trial. Though as she raked her tongue over her lips she felt a strangely eerie presence.

April murmured slightly under her breath before her eyes shot to the other end of the room, where sitting hidden in the leather recliner, eyes and nose on point, was a figure with a shadow darkened face. "Mor-" she began but shut her mouth as the face came into light and the shades were pulled away letting in blinding light.

April would have sworn, if she was typing an essay at that moment, she would have reacted to the light like a Vampire. But when as the sunlight entered the room let out a humorous laugh. "Jeez, you scared me half to death." But then her mind searched deeper into why Sherlock Holmes had been in there and her eyes narrowed mechanically. "Were you watching me sleep?"

"Observing." he corrected.

April pinched the bridge of her nose and looked up, the struggles John must go through. "So, you were observing me sleep then?"

"I was trying to read you." Sherlock paced the room. If April was a gambler she'd bet her life that when he stopped there would be burn marks in the carpet.

"Really." She smiled cooly, her words a statement. "Having trouble?" She then asked, holding back a smile by biting at the inside of her cheek. She pulled herself out of bed and stood up. Flattening down her pajamas she ran her fingers through her hair.

"A strange man was watching you sleep, for all you know I'm an axe murderer, yet you dont seem too shocked, or bothered for that matter." April fiddled with her fingers, it was a bit unrealistic to be so endlessly trusting, but she knew them. She really did know them. Probably even better than they knew themselves.

"Does that bother you?" her words came, without one pause, "I can kick you out if you want. If that makes you feel better."

But she didn't want to kick him out, she wanted him to stay, and then-

Her vision blurred and April clutched her head. Flashes of police men and interviews and Macy, Macy crying over the gravestone she slept underneath. Except it wasn't the gravestone of Sherlock Holmes. No. It was the gravestone of April Cooper.

Then April blinked and she was back in the present. Sherlock was gone, probably left when he noticed the intriguing American having a mental breakdown, and she was alone again. In her flat.

* * *

><p>April was at the ATM with John. She had been tailing him the past couple of days, and he didn't question it. Infact they had quiet interesting conversations. But that was beside the point. April knew what came next, so she smiled when he had trouble withdrawing money. He glanced back at her. "You're finding this funny, aren't you?" He shook his head and breathed out, before going back to struggling with the machine.<p>

"Maybe just a bit." she confirmed, kicking at her feet. "We're friends right?" she asked suddenly. John gave her a backwards glance.

"I've only known you for three days." he said swiftly, maybe because he was in distress, "But I suppose so."

That's when the message appeared on the ATM machine, with John's name. His face contorted into a weird combination on a smile and a frown. He glanced back at April warily as a car pulled up to the curb to pick them up. April felt giddy inside, her lips curved into a smile.

And then...she hesitated.

No matter how much she wanted to meet Mycroft and share in John's moment she knew that it wasn't her moment to try and take. So April toke a step back, smiled halfheartedly and said, "I'm going have a look around the city, I'll catch up with you later."

John nodded and the car sped off. If April's step one was to find Sherlock Holmes that probably meant that she needed a step two other than 'tail John like a weirdo.'

She started two walk back towards the flat, thinking. She thought about it for a long while and then concluded that maybe, just maybe-

April froze in her skin. She glanced to her right into the street and the cars seemed to become slower and slower until they were still as the dead. Blotches of black blurred in her vision and her voice slurred from her mouth, "Sherlock your hair is so-" she fumbled to the right almost falling in to the street, "Pretty." A dry chuckle escaped her barely parted lips as an arm caught her right side and she was out cold.

Her body laid loose on the pavement, and if you wonder how anybody could get away with kidnapping in broad daylight just remember you've never met Jim Moriarty.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> _I wonder if I can get away with the same cliffhanger twice. :3 _

**QOTD:** _Has this story declined or inclined in quality._


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